


As old and true as the sky

by Brownhairandeyes



Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Isolation, Touch Hunger, dim - Freeform, that hollow thing inside, wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brownhairandeyes/pseuds/Brownhairandeyes
Summary: Sometimes Owen forgets that people don't do it like that.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	As old and true as the sky

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that has just been hanging around. As the first thing I have posted for many years - please enjoy?  
> Title from Kipling's Law of the Jungle.

Occasionally Owen forgets. He drifts though interactions and then only later realises he didn't speak a word, that he relied upon body language and not speech. That it isn't normal to be tracking the position of everyone in the vicinity and to be absent-mindedly consider their threat level. It's only after the person he shoulder-checked staggers back, that the cashier who's hand he patted in response glares at him, that the person he leaned around to get a better look freaks out that he remembers – oh yeah – personal space. That's a thing. And physical contact should only be initiated here in quite specific situations. That he's not with the girls right now – that he has to behave. He always apologies and backs off because to the average American invasion of space without permission is at best rude and at worst a threat display and no... he doesn't mean that.

(His threat display involves more stillness and direct eye contact and the bearing of teeth)

His girls aren't the huggy type – they get figitty. But the trust inherent in being a good leaning post, in turning your back... it fills the hollowness. They will sometimes false loom until he relents and provides a good head scratch and return sometimes at night, they let him sit next to them and feel the rise and fall of breath through their skin. He doesn't outstay his welcome and always takes care to leave stretching and wandering off with the idea that it was his decision to leave – respecting their feelings. (He may be projecting a little there)

He's gotten quieter since he's started. He makes people jump more – accidently sinking into the prowl that he and the squad have perfected over time. That rhythm of slow movement that people simply seem to... block out. To be fair the basics were drilled into him at the Navy but now he can't remember the last time he annoyed the girls by scaring off prey. (Mostly they took it as a challenge – their approach and technique must be flawed if something as simple as a noisy Alpha could take away their game)

He doesn't think he can do any other job. He can't imagine himself anywhere else. The images just don't feel real, the future doesn't feel real. He is where he is and he is doing what he is doing. Thinking beyond that seems pointless, fruitless. He will do this until he dies.

**Author's Note:**

> Run on sentances - hard to resist. Comments welcome


End file.
